


Almyran Style Deceit

by AvianSolaris



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra (Fire Emblem), Deception, Half-Siblings, Manipulation, Mind Games, Politics, Pre-Fodlan Timeline, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvianSolaris/pseuds/AvianSolaris
Summary: Before there was Claude, there was Khalid, a boy fighting for survival and a name in a land that despised him. Welcome to Almyra, and let the mind games begin.
Relationships: Nader & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Dreams Woven into Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly speculation but I've aligned my work with the vague pieces of information that Claude shares in the game. I reeeeeally wish there was more background lore for my favourite lord, so naturally I had to create my own.

~~~

“In a land displaced by the conventions of nature,  
The temperature drops until all the world is still,  
Here there exists a palace of crystal.  
It is said that mere mortals cannot make the journey.  
Cold winds guard the palace with dedication like hounds,  
Stealing the last breath of the living.  
Their bodies are sealed in caskets of ice and tucked-  
Ever so gently, under blankets of shimmering snow.  
Why would anyone travel to such a place?”

“The truth was lost to songs and speculation,  
So the tales have grown ever so bold.  
The Heart of Winter, the soul of gods,  
My Aunt’s ribbon collection,  
In the end, it matters not.  
They all represent one thing,  
And it is that which drives their path.”

“Hope?”

“Hope.  
Every journey starts with it.  
Many lose it along the way.  
Only those who cling to it,  
Find it saves the day.”

“They do not lose sight of the goal,  
So they do not lose their way.  
When they fall, they rise.  
And when darkness closes in,  
It is hope that illuminates the path.”

“How many make it to the crystal palace, Momma?”

“As many as those who don’t lose hope.”

“I think I could make it.”

“I think you could too, Khalid.”

~~~  


The best part about living in the palace was the polished floors. The golden sheen of the long hallway floors glittered invitely, and though the weather was usually too hot for anything besides bare feet and sandals, Khalid had taken to carrying socks in his pocket for this very purpose. After peeking around the corners to make sure his fun wasn’t going to be thwarted by an all too stoic guard, he pulled the socks on and backed himself against the wall. He took a running start and let his momentum carry him to the other side. By now, he had the practise down to an art. He knew exactly when to start the slide so he got the best of speed and distance. He was still experimenting with the single sock method, which threw off his balance too much for effective speed, but he was sure to perfect that method too soon.  


Having completed a few very satisfying slides, he was about to try the one sock method when he heard the soft cadence of voices. He struggled to discern the identities of the voices, so he figured it was better to make himself scarce. He slipped through the door nearest him, a room meant for “entertaining guests” as his mom would have said. A series of the comfortable pillow chairs he liked were arranged in a circle. They wouldn’t be a great place to hide because they were visible from the doorway. There were other articles of funerature arranged near the walls, but it was the heavy crimson drapes that provided the best cover. Unfortunately, he knew from experience, they would be hot from the heat of direct sun all day and the drapes themselves had a tendency to hold a lot of heat. They wouldn’t be a good hiding spot for a prolonged period of time, but hopefully they were going to pass quickly.  


Khalid disliked the idea of having to explain why he was in there. It wasn’t a big deal. He was a prince, and he was free to roam the palace at his leisure, but he was also ditching his training lesson with Nader. Generally, he found that their lessons were more fun than he would ever admit, but the past few weeks had left him so sore and exhausted that he had made the executive decision to skip a few. He knew his decision would haunt him in the future, but that was a problem for his future self. It also meant that he had to be cautious about who spotted him. His siblings would not hesitate to rat him out if it were one of them in the hallway.  


Sure enough, as the voices drew nearer, Khalid could pick out the dry voice of his sister, Nahla. He didn’t recognize the voice of her companion, so he assumed it was one of her friends. Of his siblings, Nahla was the closest in age to Khalid and there had even been a few times where she invited him to play with her. Usually those games ended poorly so he had learned to reject her invitations, but she was the friendliest of his siblings.  


“...social outcast so he could never be a threat to my chance. Not only that but-” The conversation began fading into incoherent mumbling as Nahla began walking away again.  


Claude recognized the term “social outcast” as he had heard it applied to himself a number of times. Something told him that he should let Nahla walk away and ignore her conversation, but his curiosity got the better of him and he left his hiding spot to get within listening distance.  
Nahla, in flowing garments of her favourite shades of blue and pink, had her head inclined towards a boy who looked to be smaller than even Khalid. He was wearing the distinctive red sash of a servant, which only served to further Khalid’s curiosity.  


“So the rumours are true then.” the boy responded somberly to something Nahla had been saying.  


“Not quite. That was never my intention. I saw an opportunity and I thought it might make things easier for myself in the future. As it turns out, Aaliyah has begun acting extra wary around me and I think the others are picking up on it as well.”  


Aaliyah was the second oldest, and most favoured to inherit the throne, though rightfully Fayze, the eldest brother, should have had the right to it. Khalid had noticed that this was a common point of contention between them. If he saw them in a room together, they were on opposite sides or arguing about something. A significant part of the inner court seemed to disapprove of both Aaliyah and Fayze for potential rulers. But the lesser nobles, of which were greater in numbers, enjoyed the persona Aaliyah presented when acting diplomatically.  


“Shouldn’t she be wary? If you’d do it to someone who isn’t a threat, you’d surely take any chance to rid the nation of its favourite.”  


“You’re right, of course. But that wasn’t the outcome I was looking for. My opportunities are limited if my intentions are suspect. It helps that I didn’t succeed. I played it off as an accident and think most people believe me.”  


“They do. They don’t want to believe a 13 year old girl would have such malicious intentions.”  


“No, they don’t,” Nahla agreed. “I’ll bide my time before I make another move. And I trust I have your support?”  


“Always, your Highness.”  


Khalid slipped into a room with that final word, and not a moment too soon. He heard the servant’s steps pass his new hiding room, though he hadn’t made the same effort to hide this time. He was shaken by the conversation he had overheard. What Nahla had been discussing was treason, plain and simple. Yet, who would ever believe him? His story would sound ridiculous because who would have a conversation like that where it could so easily be overheard? He knew the palace better than anyone, and he had chosen here to slide down the halls for the very reason Nahla must have taken her conversation here. It was rarely occupied or patrolled. If Khalid were planning an attack on the palace, he would break in here because it was often overlooked due to it being a part of the wing once owned by the late Queen who had been Fayze and Aaliyah’s mother. She had been responsible for assigning security because she didn’t trust the King’s guards and thus used her own soldiers. Though it had been many years since her death, (at the hand of one of her own guards no less) most residents of the palace felt uncomfortable spending any length of time here. It likely didn’t help matters that Khalid perpetuated the ghost stories surrounding the wing.  


But he was still left facing the issue of what to do with this information. If he told his mother, she would confront someone about it, and it would be obvious who her information came from, which might make him a target in the eyes of Nahla. She had all but confessed that she tried to kill him, and he could only imagine what she would do to him if she found out he had been spying on her. It was too risky. He could tell Aaliyah, and she would probably believe him, but he wasn’t inclined to loyalty towards her after she pretended away his existence for the past few years. Yet, she was his best option. None of his other siblings cared about or liked him enough to believe him.  


For the remainder of the day, Khalid decided to keep this information to himself. It felt like a horrible thing to keep hidden, and the awareness of the severity of what he was hiding kept prodding at his mind like an angry wasp. All through the night, he tossed and turned.  


_“Well, you little brat?” Nahla glared down at him, her hands fixed on her hips. “How do you know so much?” _  
__

____

_He opened his mouth to answer her, but something thick like honey poured out of his mouth. It had a bitter taste, and it made it hard to breathe. _  
__

______ _ _

_Nahla’s annoyance was replaced with sadistic glee. “No matter. You’ll pay for that information with your life.”  
_

_______ _ _ _

_Khalid clawed at the substance, struggling to clear enough away that he could breathe, but the substance seemed to get thicker. It clung to his hands and created sticky webs until he was doing more harm than good by trying to scoop it out of his mouth. _  
__

__

________ _ _ _ _

__

Khalid sat up with a start. His hand was at his throat, and it felt like his throat was swollen shut. He had experienced the same feeling right before moments that he needed to cry, but it had never happened while he was sleeping before. Tears stung his eyes, and his tried them with his palms. He had never considered Nahla to be frightening before all this, and surely his mind was twisting her into a monster more foul than she truly was, but he couldn’t shake the terror that she was inspiring inside of him.  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

If he had been in his right mind, then he might have waited for the morning. But a primal sense of urgency drove him to change from his sleep attire and venture to Aaliyah’s room. Two guards in her mother’s livery were stationed outside the door on either side. Khalid slowed as he approached, and hunched his shoulders, using the vulnerability he already felt as a weapon to their diligence. “I need to talk to her. Please. It’s very important and it can’t wait.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

“Her Highness doesn’t accept visitors in the dead of night, Prince Khalid. You need to go back to bed.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

“I think she would make an exception in this case. I overheard talk about a plot on her life.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

The guards exchanged a look, and the one who had spoken knocked on her door. “Your Highness, you have a visitor.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

Khalid inched closer to the door, but the second guard held up a hand. “Wait. We don’t know if you are a part of this plot. We’ll have to check you first.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

Khalid nodded and held his arms out in compliance. The second guard thoroughly checked his pockets and patted him down for any weaponry. When he was satisfied, he nodded to the first guard, who opened the door for him.  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

Aaliyah was sitting in bed, rubbing her honey-brown eyes. Her limbs were arranged beneath her in a way that sang to the expected elegance of her station. She was peacefully dozy until she recognized who had entered her room. “And why would you be disturbing me at this time of the night? If you do not come up with an adequate reason within two minutes, I will throw you from my balcony and tell the world that you stupidly thought you could climb the palace walls.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

Khalid flinched. It was easily a story that people would believe. He didn’t make a habit of climbing things, but he had performed some questionable feats for reasons that he didn’t care to share. He had somewhat of a reputation for being reckless, though he didn’t feel the label fit. “I have a good reason.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

Aaliyah snapped her fingers. “So let’s hear it before I decide to throw you anyways.”  
Khalid pushed his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “It’s about Nahla. I know you heard about that incident where I nearly drowned, and you’re right to be-” he paused, because he didn’t want to use Nahla’s word, but the alternative framed her as a coward which seemed like a bad idea. “-wary of her. I heard her confess that the attempt on my life was intentional.”  
Aaliyah raised an eyebrow. She still looked like the wanted to murder him, so he hurried on.  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

“Which- I know you probably already figured out. The part I thought you should know, is she mentioned you by name. She’s not happy that you’ve grown suspicious of her. She plans to wait until your suspicion has been abated and then she will look for an opportunity to get rid of you. Though- she would take an earlier chance if it came.”  
Aaliyah leaned back, curling a piece of hair around her finger, which Khalid took to mean as a good thing because that meant she was thinking.  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

“Not bad, Khalid. You might be useful after all.”  
Khalid found it hard not to preen at the compliment. He had never received a direct one from her before, but he knew better than to let it go to his head.  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

“Since you’ve so generously volunteered this information to me, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me with something else?”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

Khalid didn’t like the way her voice had turned sweet, but it felt dangerous to outright reject her. “That- depends on what you’d ask of me.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

“Be my spy. Keep an eye on Nahla and report back to me if she does or says anything of interest.”  


__

________ _ _ _ _

__

“I can do that.” Khalid agreed, a decision he would soon come to regret.

__

________ _ _ _ _

__


	2. Aches and Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khalid, you should know better than to skip training!

He couldn’t avoid Nader for any longer than a day. The burly man cornered him after breakfast and practically dragged Khalid outside by the back of his shirt. Khalid crossed his arms and let his feet drag, clearly letting Nader know how irritated he was.

“Relax Kiddo, we’ll start off with something easy like archery.”

Khalid scoffed, but a bow was pushed into his hands and he was left standing in the middle of a field of dry grass. Nader tossed Khalid his quiver, still tastefully decorated with beads that a kind artisan had done- before she found out that he was the half blood prince. The work had never been completed, but Khalid loved the way the colours blended to create a wyvern on a starlit night. He slung it over his shoulder and nocked an arrow just as Nader was climbing onto the back of an elegant chestnut stallion. The creature nickered and gave its mane an irritated shake, but responded when Nader kicked it into action.

In the span of a moment, the horse was galloping straight towards Khalid. He knew that Nader wasn’t going to turn the horse away. Using his arrows, he had to shoot to scare the horse away without actually harming it. But his hands shook and his heart skittered with nerves. The first arrow he loosed hit the ground a few feet in front of him, and the horse didn’t even slow. Khalid had time for one more shot before the horse overtook him, but the effort it took to guide his hand back into the quiver and nock the bow again took more time than it should have. If he fired now, he would hit the horse. With a yelp, he rolled to the side. The horse slowed and circled around to meet him, Nader gripping the reins with one hand and an unreadable expression on his face.  
Khalid, laying in the dirt, wiped at his eyes to persuade the tears back. He watched Nader, but made no effort to rise from his position of defeat.

Nader dismounted, and held the reins out to Khalid. Finally, he scrambled onto his feet and shoved the quiver and bow into Nader’s empty hands. “I hate it! I hate archery! I can’t do it, Nader!”

Nader’s brow furrowed, and in the next moment, Khalid found himself back on the ground, a sandled foot pressed against his chest. “You’re not strong and you don’t have the dedication to master close combat fighting. If you would put work into it, you could make up for your physical ineptitude with speed, but you’d be more likely to die in training because I can’t save you from your own foolish mistakes. The bow will be a good fit for you and you’ll master it or you can spend the rest of your life cleaning up after the wyverns of the warriors.”

The foot eased up, and Khalid pushed himself into a sitting position, glaring up at Nader. “How am I going to learn to use the bow when I can’t make a single shot?”  
Nader chuckled and held out his hand to Khalid, who accepted it reluctantly. “The finest archers in Almyra started out where you are today. No one masters their first shot.”  
“Well- how am I going to learn when I’m too scared to get a shot off?” Khalid protested.

“In situations where you’ll need your bow to find its mark, you’ll be under pressure. You have to learn to handle the stress of battle as you learn your weapon, or you’ll be as good as useless with it.”  
Khalid frowned. He didn’t have a good response to that, and he had known that Nader had been comparatively easier on him than any of his other pupils, so he had to accept his wisdom. Nader might be a hard man, but the relationship he shared with Khalid was a special one.

Khalid reached for the bow again. “Can I try hitting some things without you putting my life in jeopardy?”

“Why? We both know you’re an excellent shot without it. You have to start training for real.”

“I think I would feel better after seeing that I can still hit a target.”

“Very well. Five shots, and after that you need to make up for ditching training.”

Khalid groaned, his muscles already sending off phantom aches and complaints from the last time he’d had to make up for missing training, but he accepted the bow as it was offered and allowed his springs of confidence to flow.

~~~  
All Khalid wanted to do after training was sleep. Everything hurt. He was filthy from being thrown into the dirt so many times, and so exhausted that he was questioning the safety of using the stairs. As he was making his way up towards his room, he spotted Aaliyah hurrying down in orange silks that complimented her rich chocolate skin. She paused when she saw him, which was an experience he was not accustomed to. Her shrewd eyes made him feel like he was wiggling inside his skin, and that was not a comfortable feeling.

“Aaliy-”

“Your Highness is fine.” She interrupted, and he chose to believe she forgot they were of the same rank. “Nahla is having a little feast with her friends tonight. Don’t you have something you need to be doing?”

“Yes- your Highness. Thanks for the reminder.” Khalid forced a cheerful note into his voice, but he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Was he supposed to spend every second of his day watching her? Khalid was getting the impression that Aaliyah thought so.

She continued on without another word, and Khalid was beginning to wonder if he liked her more when she ignored him. Sure, there was something gratifying about being present in his sister’s mind, but she was treating him like a servant when they should have been equals. True, she was much older than he was. He was a child and she was reaching the end of her youthful years, but they were both legitimate children to the Almyran throne and neither of them were the rightful inheritors. Was his mother’s blood so poisonous that he was unworthy of even a shred of her respect?

He had no desire to leave his room, but he made a commitment and it was clear he couldn’t get away with shirking his duty. Aaliyah was watching him now, and there was no telling what she would do to him if he failed. Still, he wasn’t going to jump up and follow her orders either. He took a hot bath that helped ease his aching muscles and dressed himself in some of his finer articles of clothing, though he briefly considered wearing the guise of a servant. He had discarded that idea after realizing that he was too recognizable here. People didn’t usually have a reason to pay attention to the servants, but Khalid would attract attention as he always did. He wished it wasn’t the kind of attention that had people turning away to whisper about him, but it was better than Aaliyah’s method of pretending he was invisible.

When the sun dipped below the horizon and the flickering lights of the torches could be seen from his window, he made his way to the southern courtyard, which was the most likely place for Nahla to host due to her preferences for the outdoors, the location of her quarters, and the number of people who had the power to stop her within hearing distance. Khalid hadn’t come to an event like this before, but he had heard about incidents in the past where groups had gotten too loud and rowdy. A part of him found it thrilling that he would be apart of something like this, but he knew better than to believe he would be welcomed for the festivity. The best he could hope for was not getting sent to his room. His body wouldn’t forgive him for walking so far for nothing.

When he arrived, he was stunned by all the effort that had gone into a ‘little feast’. The entrance was decorated with lanterns, each wearing semi-transparent cones that made coloured the lights inside. Lightning bugs had been released as well, and they hovered overhead, darting away from the fingers that grasped for them. Glowing blue flowers lined the pathways, and a few magic users were scattered throughout the crowd, dazzling their respective crowds with tricks. In the middle of it all, was a giant bonfire. People danced in a circle around it, waving their hands above their heads, stomping their feet, all of it with no apparent rhythm or pattern. Khalid felt drawn towards their lively cheers, and his feet seemed to move of their own accord, when a hand suddenly blocked his path.

“Khaaalid! Oh my darling brother! What wyvern dropped you here?”

And it was Nahla. Khalid smiled tightly and took a step away from her arm. “I thought I’d see what all the commotion was about.”

Nahla giggled, and Khalid noticed that she was leaning heavily against another girl, whose eyes were half closed. “Silly! You’d kill the mood of any party. Buuuut-” She looked around with wide eyes and then leaned closer to Khalid. She staggered, and Khalid awkwardly tried to support her weight, but struggled under her weight. “Everyone here is kinda loooopsy tonight. They won’t notice if I don’t tell them you’re here.”

Khalid pushed her back against her companion with a grunt. “Great! So I can stay?”

She giggled again, and the noise was quickly starting to irritate him. “Yeah! But first lemme show you the wonders of the drink!"

Khalid forced a smile and backed away. “Actually, there was something else I wanted to see first.”

Nahla lurched forward and grabbed his wrist with such force that he yelped from the pain of it. “Just come with me, Khalid!"

As if he should trust her after she tried to kill him. Maybe she was planning to try it again, but she wasn’t in any mental capacity for clever plans, so he allowed her to pull him towards one of the servants carrying a tray of some colourless drink in an oblong glass. She plucked one off and pushed it into Khalid’s hands, watching him expectantly. He tilted the cup enough that the cool liquid touched his lips, but he didn’t truly take a sip. He made a show of sputtering, which wasn’t hard because it had an oppressive smell that hinted at its bitterness.

Nahla clapped her hands gleefully and cackled. “It has a strong taste, but you’ll get used to it! Come on!”

Khalid waited until her head was turned away, and then he poured the drink into the grass and set his glass on another servant’s tray. He scanned the crowds and noticed one figure standing near the fringes of the party’s society, eyes actually alert and focused on him. It took a moment for him to place his recognition, but he realized it was the servant who had been discussing Nahla’s plans with her.  
Nahla stumbled, almost taking Khalid down with her, but a group of older girls caught her and they shared a laugh. While Nahla was distracted, Khalid wove his way towards the servant. The servant inclined his head towards the passage behind him and stepped into it. Without trepidation, Khalid followed.

In the span of a few seconds, Khalid found himself thrown back against the wall with a dagger pressed to his throat. It had happened so fast that he was too surprised to make a sound.

“Don’t say a word or I’ll slice you open right here. They might catch me, but my life is worth the loss of yours. Don’t think I won’t make that gamble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for a cliffhanger? ;D (It's for me too because I want to know what happens and I'm more inclined to continue!)
> 
> Anywhale! Tell me what you think! Is this something I should keep going with?


	3. Conflicting Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to not get sliced open 101

Outside the walls of the palace, in every shadowed corner, or when the blanket of darkness silenced the sympathy of do-gooders, danger lurked. Sometimes it crept in through the window and made off with wealth, or the precious blood of life. Other times it appeared in the betrayal of a bond, such as a sister making a split second decision to defeat a contender for the throne. And yet, despite all he had known, danger hadn’t seemed imminent until this very moment, when his very life was being threatened. He was acutely aware of the dagger, pressed against his flesh and making it feel itchy. His skin, in turn, felt like a prison that he wanted nothing more than to squirm out of, but he was frozen with shock and fear that any movement might be enough to trigger the servant’s ire. Later, he might laugh at how ridiculous it would have looked to anyone else. The servant was small, smaller than Khalid even, but his strength was enough to keep the prince frozen in place.

‘Don’t say a word or I’ll slice you open right here. They might catch me, but my life is worth the loss of yours. Don’t think I won’t make that gamble.’

Was he telling the truth? Khalid’s life seemed to have such little value here, so why would this servant risk his life? And he was young, just like Khalid. Today he had the opportunity to get a good look, and while the exact number was indeterminable, Khalid would have guessed he was the same age or slightly off. The only indication of disproportionate maturity came from his cold, emotionless eyes. They spoke of someone broken. Someone who had lost pieces of their humanity. This servant had nothing to lose. Or- that was what he wanted to think.

“You’re Nahla’s servant, aren’t you?” The servant’s face remained impassive, but Khalid felt the knife press in minutely, so he knew he was onto something. If he pressed, there was a chance that his life would be cut short, but the right words could free him.

“What of it?” 

She seems to like you? I saw you wandering off alone with her? Suggestive and hinted that Khalid knew nothing of their intentions, but it could set a paranoid person off. So no, that wouldn’t work. Aside from that, Khalid likely spent less time than the servant in her company, so he would know her better than he would, and so he couldn’t make calls about her relationship with him.

“You like her?” This set things in the right direction, because the question threw the servant so off balance that genuine emotion replaced the cruel disposition he had formerly taken. Surprise turned to anger, but the biggest win was the retreat of the knife, for it no longer touched his skin, but it was close enough to his neck that Khalid couldn’t see it while looking down.

“What is that supposed to mean? She is my lady and I serve her faithfully.”

An answer that would surely satisfy Nahla, but Khalid sensed there was a deeper meaning to his words. Or maybe he was reading too far into it. “How did you come into her service? I’ve seen you around but- you’re as young as I am.”

Young servants weren’t unusual. The part that was out of the ordinary was that having a personal servant as young as this servant had to be, was odd. Mature servants were graceful and educated in palace customs, especially if they were chosen to serve as a personal servant to a member of the royal family. Khalid’s own were all his senior by at least half a decade, though he hadn’t chosen them. For most of his life, he’d borrowed servants from his mother’s personal retinue, but as of his tenth birthday, he had been gifted a selection of his own as a symbol of his independence and flourishing maturity. Beyond basic tasks like preparing his bath or fetching meals, they remained relatively unused. He had learned independence. It had been this independence that almost caused him to reject the tradition of wearing a braid, which meant when he changed his mind, his braid had been shorter than most of the other boy’s. His late decision hadn’t helped his reputation as an outsider, but he reminded himself that he had made the decision for himself. Khalid noticed that the servant wore a braid too, something that hadn’t been visible previous times he had seen him because it hid within his long, black hair.

The servant seemed caught off guard by this question too. It was innocent enough. There was nothing to be gained from learning a mere servants past, but it was gone soon enough, replaced with a sneer. “I don’t see why it matters. I don’t serve cowards like you.”

Khalid bristled at the jab, forgetting that there was a knife right beside his throat momentarily. “Yeah? Would you have the guts to run away to a foreign country when you don’t speak the language?”

And all that peace and trust he had been building up was broken in the span of a few seconds. The knife touched his neck again, with the notable difference that this was a warning and not a threat.

“Sorry- right… you have the power to kill me and all that. I just want to know why. I’m not special. I’m probably the most despised person in Almyra, but I’m harmless.” Khalid was no stranger to playing himself down, but everything he said was mostly true. His influence politically was non-existent, and his status as an outsider prevented him from making any meaningful connections. The only way he could possibly be considered a threat was if they considered his mind, which he considered to be his only means of defence. Could it get him out of this mess?

The servant gave him a scrutinizing look, but pulled the dagger back abruptly and slid it into a sheath buried somewhere within his ill-fitting garments. “I’m not actually here to kill you, but my threat was genuine. I’m here to discuss something with you.”

“Discuss something- with me?!” Now it was Khalid’s turn to be surprised. He rubbed his neck where the dagger had pressed, but found there wasn’t so much as a mark to be felt.

“We can’t talk here. Half the party might be drunk out of their minds, but we are close enough for the other half to hear. Follow me.”

“Follow you? After you held a dagger to my throat? Forgive me, but that’s not the best way to earn my trust and get me to follow your orders.” Khalid had begun backing towards the entry to the passageway, but the servant snatched his wrist before he had the opportunity to make a break for it.

“That’s not how this is supposed to work. I demonstrated I’m dangerous and chose not to kill you, so now you can trust me long enough to hear what I have to say.”

Khalid yanked his arm free of the servant’s grasp. “Or let you take me to a private location so there’s no chance of getting caught? Unhand me! I’m still a prince and you could get killed for laying a hand on me like this!”

The servant scoffed, but moved to stand between Khalid and his escape. “Who will accept your word? I have Princess Nahla’s protection and my parents were both born and raised in Almyra. You’re not a threat to me.”

“My mother is the Queen of Almyra!”

The dagger was out again, but this time the servart only balanced the hilt in his palm. “Yeah? So where is she now?”  
Not here to protect you. Never here to protect you. I have to protect myself. Khalid stared at the malicious glint that danced along the dagger’s edge, bitterly resigning himself to his options. Bluffing wasn’t going to work because this servant was bolder and more astute an opponent than Khalid was used to. There was a good chance that Khalid could overpower him, but he had learned not to underestimate his opponents. There was no guarantee that calling for help would actually bring help, and the servant may very well be able to kill him even if help came, so he would have to go and hope that he wasn’t putting himself in a worse position.

“Alright. I’ll come with you willingly if you tell me your name.”

The servant gave him an incredulous look and flipped the dagger in front of Khalid’s eyes as if to punctuate the point that he wasn’t in a position to be asked questions. Khalid held his ground and refused to flinch away, which earned him a chuckle.

“Lysander.” He poked Khalid’s back with a finger to prod him in the right direction.

~~~

The passage led to a grove of trees in another outdoor courtyard. Upon an initial survey, there was no one else around, but it was a large space of land with many ambiguous shapes hidden within the depths of the night. Lysander settled on a low hanging branch. Grooves were scratched into the bark and it looked like it had been peeled off in places. Khalid saw why as Lysander took the dagger and cleanly sliced another strip off. His attention seemed to be fully occupied with the task, but he spoke as he drew the blade towards himself again.

“Her highness doesn’t know about this meeting. I took some extra measures to ensure she would be occupied tonight. That isn’t as nefarious as it sounds, but I’m not so sure she would approve of this meeting and I didn’t want her to follow.”

Khalid tilted his head, feeling his curiosity rise, along with a subtle respect and trust that he failed to prevent. “What was so important that you’d betray her trust like that?”

“I didn’t betray her trust. I wouldn’t do that. Ever. But that doesn’t mean I always agree with her views and opinions. For starters, I think she underestimates you, and I think it would do her well to work with you. She wants to do everything herself, but you’d make a powerful ally, wouldn’t you?”

“Me? Hah- you think I’d be powerful? We went through that entire dance a few minutes ago and clearly established that I’m not a threat to anyone.”

Lysander looked up at Khalid, staring, but not in a condescending manner like he was so accustomed to. “You’re underestimated, and that’s your greatest asset. Anyone else who gets threatened with a knife, their first reaction is to scream in my experience. You take in the situation and try to make the best of it, until your pride gets in the way and you give in to anger. I think if you got that under control, you could have talked your way out of any attack involving a sane assailant.” 

Khalid remained silent. Lysander’s observation was dangerous, and he felt a strong desire to leave before Lysander could pick apart anything else. Did Nahla know too? Would Lysander figure out that Khalid knew about the attempt on his life? He shifted on the balls of his feet and cast his eyes away, determined to keep from revealing anything else.

Lysander cleared his throat. “I don’t plan to use any of this against you unless you turn into a problem. I want to serve her highness as best as I can, and I think you can help me with that. Enter an- arrangement with me and I’ll watch your back. To start with, I have some information for you that you might find interesting.”

When Lysander fell silent, Khalid realized he was supposed to say something. He stumbled over his words through his apprehension to continue the conversation. “What wo- would this arrangement look like?”

“Not much. Your eyes and ears feeding me any information you think would be relevant. Sometimes I might ask you to help me with something, but I won’t ask you to risk your life beyond what you’re comfortable with. Who knows though… you might find my lifestyle to be thrilling. You’re already known for your wild gambits, Prince Khalid.”

In many ways, the deal was appealing to Khalid. And maybe that was exactly what Lysander intended. There was protection in an offer like that, but danger too. Loyalty always came with a danger, especially when he had already promised his loyalty to Aaliyah.

“What if I say no?”

“As long as you don’t cause any trouble, nothing.” Lysander’s eyes seemed to glint with contradiction to his statement, which left Khalid with little choice. Saying yes put him in a better position, though he knew he could never truly promise his loyalties to the faction that has tried to kill him.

“In that case, I accept.”

This was quickly turning into a game of life or death. Khalid realized, in that moment, that he needed to get a few aces of his own to stay ahead of the curve. If he misstepped, both sides he had aligned with would be quick to dispose of him. So the next step was to make himself indispensable.


	4. A Hit of Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi-break from the convoluted web of politics

Blue skies spanned above the inner wall of the gate, framed by the metal lattice that separated Khalid from the outside world. He traced his fingers over the intersections, chasing the nonsensical shapes and patterns of study yet elegant craftsmanship. He sat on the sill, separated from sandstone by a ratty pillow that should have been replaced years ago, but it served him well enough. Activity thrummed below as was usual for midday. Khalid listened to the babble of voices, occasionally picking out bits of conversation that meant little when separated from context. Though the biggest market in the nation was located just down the hill in the capital city of Seristel, often bargaining found its way to the palace grounds, as the court was composed of nobles with full pockets. Services and goods of the highest craftsmanship and quality found their way to the pavilions and stages until the nobles came out to peruse the wares. Other wealthy customers were drawn there as well, which meant that the palace grounds continually hosted a market of its own.

Khalid slid off the sill, sending the pillow to the ground in the process. He glanced at it, and reluctantly picked it up before climbing onto his bed. Opened his pillow up and dumped the contents into his palm. Feathers came along with a handful of coins he’d managed to both earn and pilfer. He pushed the feathers back into his pillow and tucked the coins into his pocket.

Khalid made his way down to the palace’s market without seeing anyone of consequence. Eyes followed him as soon as he stepped outside, and the noise of the crowd seemed to dip as whispers replaced lively banter. A subtle flush touched his cheeks with all the attention, and he bowed his head, the scarf around his head concealing about half of his face and giving him a bolster of confidence. He disappeared into the crowd, though not seamlessly. People intentionally avoided touching him if it could be helped, and he didn’t mind. As the initial excitement of his appearance wore off, the noise of the crowd swelled once more, and Khalid wove about with a grace akin to dancing. He checked stalls, and tents, paused to listen to speeches about the exotic quality of certain goods. Tales about the lands they came from fascinated him. Some of the merchants looked at him expectantly, as if they expected him to buy from them, and when their interest grew too great, he slipped back into the crowd to see others.

One merchant in vibrant shades of orange and coral pink did happen to steal his heart. The merchant had his assorted goods lined around him on an artfully woven blanket. There were a variety of strange things Khalid didn’t recognize, but the glass cylinders of spices called to him. The merchant, seeing where his eye had wandered, palmed one of them and held it out to Khalid. “You have a good eye. These are some of my finer treasure~ they come from across the sea and a desert caravan that marched many moons across unforgiving lands! They say that only one member made it through alive- and I’m inclined to believe it. The man I purchased these from claimed that the last man remaining had a wild look to him. He figures the others died of not so natural causes~ but of course that’s just a rumour.”

Khalid’s mouth had dropped open, especially when the merchant placed the tiny container in his hand and encouraged him to smell. Khalid pulled the cork stopper out and held it beneath his nose, letting the nipping aroma waft up. It stung from the strength of the scent, something pine and bitter, but Khalid found it appealed to him. It reminded him of a fistful of soft earth, moist and rich, and full of life.

The merchant smiled pleasantly. “I can see you enjoy that one. Might I ask you a question?”

Khalid nodded and held his hand out, passing the spices back to their owner.

The merchant stared at his hand but didn’t take it back yet. “You are- the Almyran Prince, correct? Heh- not ‘the’ prince. I know you have brothers as well, but- you are the child of the current queen.”

“Yes, I am.” Khalid admitted, wariness colouring his tone.

“I have heard tales of you, though many don’t frame you in a favourable light.”

Khalid’s palm felt sweaty, and he wanted the merchant to take back his spices. He didn’t like this topic. “I’m sorry to say I haven’t heard tales of you.”

This earned him a laugh, and the merchant took Khalid’s hand to curl his fingers around the spices. “Consider this a gift from me to you. I’ve been at this a long time and I know it’s not always easy being an outsider, and I think that counts double for the prince coming from both sides of countries at war.”

Khalid’s eyes grew blurry as tears welled up. He pressed the hand with the spices against his chest. In a split second, he had thrown himself into the merchant’s arms, hugging him like he might hug his mom or dad. “Thank you! I won’t forget your kindness!”

Khalid pulled the coins from his pocket and pressed them into the merchants hand. The merchant beamed and waved a hand towards the other containers. “The first was a gift, and you can take another if you’re going to pay me. I have another you might truly enjoy!”

The merchant passed another to Khalid, and he found the scent of this to be similar to the previous one, but this one wasn’t as strong and had a sweetness to it that was unlike the others. Khalid tucked both spices into his pocket and the merchant a gratified grin. Kindness like this wasn’t something he encountered often, so he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to act, but he lingered for a few seconds before melting back into the crowd.

After that, he headed back to the palace. He had nearly made it back to the main doors, when he heard intense whispering and giggling. A group of girls somewhere around his age were huddled together. They seemed disinterested in him until he felt a rough hand on his shoulder, and then he saw their eyes flick to him in a way that suggested they had known he was there all along. Khalid looked up to see one of the palace guards. Though the angle was awkward, Khalid read the twisted fury on his expression. “Oh- good day. Something wrong?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, yer highness. Yer not above the law and stealing isn’t permitted in these parts.”

“Stealing? I’m no thief.” Khalid scoffed, thinking back to all the times he had- in fact- pilfered a few things. But surely that wasn’t what this was about.

The guard shoved a hand in Khalid’s pockets and pulled out the two glass containers of spices. “Ya expect me to believe ya came by these through honest means?”

Khalid felt his heart sink, and he knew they were as good as gone. Who would possibly believe he purchased one and was gifted the other? As far as Almyra was concerned, he was the penniless prince, destitute in finances and the privileges of a citizen. It wasn’t difficult to thread the truth together. One of the girls had seen him getting along with the merchant and they reported a theft to the guard. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and based on prior experience, no one would take his side. There was even a chance the merchant had been in on it. Why would it matter that he gifted Khalid spices if he was going to get them back immediately?

Khalid’s eyes burned with tears. He was quivering the weight of his distress, and he needed to get away from this situation before they saw him break down. “I paid for those.”

Even he felt his answer didn’t seem convincing, and every moment was drawing more attention. The eyes burned into him, judgment and scorn driving into him like a fist to the gut. He needed to leave. He forced his feet to go but they responded mechanically. The palace wasn’t far enough away from the attention, and after he managed to get himself in motion, he broke into a sprint. A final glance back and he spotted that same merchant in orange and coral pink breaking through the crowd, fury etched on his features. That was all he needed to get him through that final stretch and out the gate. The guards let him through without a hassle. He wasn’t a prisoner and already spent a great deal of time outside the palace, though lately his duties as spy had meant spending a lot more time within the walls. He had missed being out here more than he cared to admit. For as many bad things seemed to happen to him, there was something freeing about being outside the restrictive air of the palace.

He started down the dirt road, but took an offshoot into a thicket of trees. Long grasses crept up beside the trunks, a few bearing a wonderful shade of purple. He plucked them and wove them into a bracelet, fixated on the task until the events of the afternoon had all but faded from his mind. Sometime later he heard rustling and responded by pressing himself back against the trunk with a grumble directed towards the disturbance. One of the girls from earlier stumbled across him, and she paused, staring at him. “Over here.”

Khalid jumped to his feet, prepared to run, but when it was the merchant who appeared, he paused. The merchant held up a hand and smiled that same warm smile from earlier. Khalid knew he shouldn’t trust him, but his kindness of earlier- fake as it was- had still left an impression on him stronger than the residual bitterness of betrayal.

The merchant put a coin in the girl’s hand and she scampered off. “I heard about what happened and I wanted to return these to you.” He held out his hand, revealing the spices.

Khalid frowned, staring at them but not daring to take them. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“If you have to ask that, then you're exactly the sort of person who needs someone kind in their life. I wish I could stay longer, but I must return to my travels. Just remember, don’t get disheartened. Good still exists in the world.”

Khalid smiled and took the spices back. They spent the next few hours conversing, and Khalid returned to the palace in high spirits. He placed the spices in his pillow and sealed it shut once again.

Lysander came to call on Khalid well into the late hours of the evening. Khalid hadn’t wanted company, but he couldn’t afford to say no. The next part of his plan made forming a solid relationship with Lysander imperative, and that meant accepting his oddly timed meetings.”

“What is it this time?”

The small boy made himself at home on Khalid’s bed, twisting himself into the sheets with a familiarity that Khalid found disturbing. “Nahla has been asking about you. I told her that I was working with you.” Khalid stiffened, glancing at the door as if suddenly nervous of an attack, but Lysander continued talking. “Relax, dust prince. She’s not interested in hurting you. She was actually quite pleased that you were /interested/ in working with us. She wants to expand our scope. Not only are we to spy on Aaliyah, but also the furious fighty one, passive garden prince, and- that other one who is always around but never easy to find”

“That sounds like a full time job! I never agreed to that!” Khalid protested.

Lysander shrugged, brown eyes shifting amber in an unsettling way. “Consider it a promotion. You’re still on board, aren’t you?”

Khalid regretted his response almost instantly because it was counter-intuitive to his goals, but they were asking a lot of him! He wasn’t Nahla’s subordinate anymore than he was Aaliyah’s, but they both seemed to share that in common nonetheless. “Yes, of course. I’ll cooperate.”

Lysander sat up and winked. “Great, then I’ll be out of your hair. Meet me tomorrow so we can discuss a plan of action.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if this is something I'm going to continue. I didn't do my normal dozen rounds of edits so I apologize for the sloppy writing and errors. I had an idea and I was just excited to write it!


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